Dead End
by ellamariexx
Summary: Alternate ending to the series: Upon returning with his brother from beyond the gate Edward finds himself in a different world. A world of the walking dead, a world he hopes without fail is not his.


**A/N: **I'm much happier with this version, sorry to have to delete the old. But on with the show...

**Truth:**

He was a man without alchemy, without conviction, a man with nothing but a gun and a fading notion of what was good and right in this dying world. Edward Elric was a man of science, but nothing in modern science could explain the reanimation of a corpse or its need for human flesh. They had stumbled across old papers on their journey, which was about the only real clues they had discovered about what must have happened to this world. Some had called it a plague while others turned to religion and the damning of civilization but Edward knew better, he knew this was something entirely different.

His breathe came quick and rushed, each step echoing through the long alley. This wasn't the first time he had gone on a gathering mission but somehow the odds seemed to tip in the others favor every time he chanced it and he had chanced it quite a few times.

The ground was slick with rainwater and residue from the previous night's storm making it harder to pick up speed. Edward was careful to keep his eyes on the road ahead of him and not the others. The young man didn't need to look at what was trailing behind him; the smell of decay and sound of distinct shuffling was enough to tame his curiosity. Edward believed in science, he believed in reason, but it was failing them and even alchemy couldn't give them a reprieve from the madness.

Scrambling through debris he came up to a dead end, a fence running up to a height of about ten feet. Shit, he must have taken a wrong turn. Clapping his hands together out of habit the disappointing sound just sank in, a subtle reminder of how much things had changed. The others drew closer as he exhaled a string of curse words and reached for the gun holstered at his side. A few rounds would not save him here but the metal in hands might work a small miracle if he believed in that sort of thing. Without missing a beat he maintained speed and ran full force ahead, jumping as far up the fence as he could manage. The metal grid rattled dangerously at the impact, his hands fumbling as he started to climb. Favoring his right arm, Ed pulled himself up as the corpses continued to gain on him. He was barely to the top when the fence began to shake, his foot slipping. Looking down Ed watched as walkers ran into the barrier, their hands clawing and reaching up in blind greed.

It didn't make sense for this to be the end. Not after saving the world from the Promised Day, not after his brother was restored to his body, and especially not before he got to taste some homemade apple pie. His chest hurt, he didn't like to think about that last part, he didn't like to imagine her face gone from this world. They had not run into anyone they knew but Ed feared the time when it did occur, would he have the strength to fight?

Grunting from effort he heaved his body up and managed to throw a leg over the top. It took the last of his strength to heave his body over to safety, nearly avoiding a collision by tucking his body into a roll. The hit stung, his beaten body protesting as he struggled to his feet. It was survival of the fittest and some part of his animalistic ancestry kicked in. The sound of his automail gears grinding against one another made him quick with nervousness, no doubt his automail leg was about to give up the fight.

Rounding another corner Edward skidded to a halt, almost losing his balance as he came upon a small group feeding on two bodies. It wasn't easy watching them tear the life right out of them, piece by piece. Those were humans; two people who had made it through the promised day and the initial purge only to find their end. She came to him then, a whisper of a promise and a pair of blue eyes. There wasn't a day that wen t by that he didn't imagine her fate and hope with every fiber of his being that she too had survived. He had paused for too long; one by one they began to catch his scent, the fresh blood from his fall a siren in the wind. "You've got to be kidding me." He panted under his breath.

Taking the safety off his gun he began to run, his aim on the closest walker. He shot a few times with only the third and fourth shots hitting their marks. It was hard to get a good aim on even such an unwavering target, especially with their heads lolling to the side and flesh gaping from their bones.

Edward knew he was getting close to their hideout but it didn't give him any comfort. Zigzagging through parked cars in the street he began to limp as the automail nerve connections flared and engulfed him in pain. Gripping his pant leg he forced himself to keep moving, his lip caught between rows of clenched teeth. Then he was out of the city, running through wider spaces and taller grasses. The road gave way to a few houses here and there and then he was at a gate, its rusted exterior thrown together out of haste. He watched with growing exhaustion as the unrelenting migrating group started to catch up to him. Edward hissed impatiently as the gate jammed, the poor excuse of a barrier finally doing its job.

When at last the gate was opened and relocked he allowed himself to collapse as he tried to process the close shave he had just escaped from. Then the moment was gone and he was hauling the bag of supplies over his shoulder and heading back inside the compound of which he had days earlier craved to leave.

The small country home just outside the city was abandoned but it was well garrisoned, no doubt the people who lived here had tried to put up a fight. He found Alphonse with a pad of paper and whittled pieces of colored pencil resting on his lap. His younger brother was fast asleep but that didn't surprise Edward. The boy barely had enough fat on his body to live yet alone make it through the entire day without exhausting himself. Removing the pad and pencils Ed covered his brother with the blanket at the end of the bed and sank into the worn arm chair nearby.

Blinking back any attempt at sleep he stared at the drawing his brother had started but had not completed. His heart thumped numbly in his chest at the flowing grasses and the familiar house off in the distance. Ed had stopped counting the days since they had come back from the other side. They had come back from the arms of truth to find the city this way, to find themselves alone in a world he did not recognize. How could time have robbed them of so much, how could they have come back to a world he had fought to save only to find it filled with death?

Edward flipped the page and began to draw circles, each one more desperate than the last.


End file.
